For Meghan.
The icky, thick, tickly bee
tickled across my bare-skinned knee.
Stopping, starting, hovering, darting the icky, thick, prickly bee was surely interested in eating me.
I wished a wish, that bee be gone,
Icky, thick, prickly bee move on!
I sat rickety, rigidy, ever so still,
wishing a wish to get up and run home,
to wash from me knee, the drips from my cone.
Jeffry Osborne Tar © 1999
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